The Way Home

by Irene Hannon

  She shook her head. “Just turn around, please.”

  Cal gladly complied. He needed some time to compose himself and get off the emotional roller coaster he was on. Like a couple of weeks, maybe. Unfortunately, the two minutes it took Amy to change wasn’t nearly enough.

  “Okay. I’m decent.”

  He turned slowly, and though she smiled, he could see the weariness and pain in her face.

  “I’d be happy to call a cab, Cal,” she offered. “I hate to put you to all this trouble.”

  “Forget it.”

  From the tone of his voice, she figured the subject wasn’t open to discussion. And she wasn’t up to one, anyway. Instead, she gripped the edge of the gurney and started to stand.

  Cal was beside her in an instant. “Whoa! Remember what the doctor said. Move slowly.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “Okay, try it now.”

  Amy rose gingerly to her feet. She swayed for a moment, and he gave her a worried look as he tightened his grip.

  “I’m okay,” she assured him. “Just a little light-headed.”

  Before he could reply, a knock at the door drew their attention, and the nurse entered. “Dr. Whitney said to give you these.” She held out a package of gauze and a prescription, and Cal took them. “Do you need any help getting to your car? Would you like a wheelchair?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  They spoke simultaneously, and Amy glanced up at Cal. “I can walk.”

  For a moment she thought he was going to argue, but instead he turned to the nurse. “Could you wait with her at the entrance while I pull up?”

  “No problem.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” Amy protested.

  “Humor me, okay?”

  There was something intense but unreadable in his eyes that made Amy’s protest die in her throat. “Okay.”

  By the time she was safely buckled into his car a few minutes later and they were on their way, a deep-seated weariness had settled over her. She answered his few questions in monosyllables, and was grateful when he lapsed into silence. Though the drive home was swift, with just one stop to get her prescription filled, the road seemed excessively bumpy, and the throbbing pain in her head intensified. When they at last pulled into her parking lot she let out an audible sigh of relief.

  Cal parked the car and glanced over at her with a worried frown. He’d been stealing looks at her throughout the drive, and she seemed to have grown paler over the past half hour. He wasn’t entirely convinced that the hospital should have released her, but he supposed the doctor was right. She would get more rest here.

  “Wait there. I’ll come around and help you out,” he instructed.

  Amy acquiesced with a nod. She’d planned to simply thank Cal in the parking lot and send him on his way, but she suddenly felt too shaky to make it into her apartment without help.

  “Okay, nice and easy,” he said as he pulled her door open and extended his hand.

  With his help, she stood carefully—only to suddenly find herself in his arms.

  “Just take a minute to get your sea legs,” he said huskily as he held her protectively against his chest. He had planned to give her a moment to get her balance—but he lost his the second her soft curves pressed against the length of his body. She felt so good in his arms. So right. A powerful surge of yearning swept over him, and it took every ounce of his willpower to fight the temptation to lean down and taste the sweetness of her lips.

  Cal swallowed convulsively. He didn’t want to feel this way about Amy. And he especially didn’t want to feel this way right now, when he was struggling with other choices and decisions that would affect the rest of his life. Cal didn’t understand why the Lord had put this woman in his life at this particular time, but he also trusted that there must be a reason. And so he turned to the Master, as he often did in times of turmoil, for guidance.

  Dear Lord, I’m confused, he prayed as he held Amy in his arms. After today, I know that I care deeply about this woman. But we seem ill suited in so many ways. Our priorities—and our lifestyles—are completely different. Amy could never be happy in a cabin in the mountains. But I’m more and more convinced that I can’t be happy anywhere else. Please, Lord, help me resolve this dilemma and give me the wisdom to discern Your will.

  As Amy leaned against Cal, savoring the haven of his strong, sure arms, she felt strangely content. She wasn’t a woman who leaned on anyone very often, but at this moment it felt wonderful. In fact, oddly enough, it felt as if she’d somehow come home. She didn’t understand the feeling, but neither did she fight it. It felt too good. So with a sigh, she closed her eyes and nestled her cheek against his chest, conscious of the rapid beat of his heart beneath her ear. Amy didn’t think his elevated pulse was from the exertion of helping her out of the car, and a sudden tingle of excitement ran through her that had nothing to do with her recent trauma.

  Cal felt her tremble and pulled back slightly to gaze down at her, his eyes troubled. “Are you okay?”

  No, she wasn’t. Her own pulse had gone haywire, and she was having trouble breathing as she grappled with her own conflicting emotions. It felt way too good in this man’s arms. And though she tried desperately to stifle the thought, she couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to feel his lips on hers.

  “Amy?”

  Cal’s worried voice brought her back to reality, and she forced her stiff lips into the semblance of a smile. “I’ll be better once I’m inside.”

  If Cal noticed the unevenness in her voice, he made no comment. Instead, he closed the door and took her arm, matching his pace to hers as she made her way slowly to the door. She fumbled in her purse, all too conscious of his hand resting protectively in the small of her back. When her fingers closed over the key, she turned to him and again summoned up a smile.

  “Thank you for everything, Cal. I’m really sorry about tonight. I’m sure you had better plans for your evening then spending it at the hospital.”

  He tilted his head and gave her a crooked grin. “Are you telling me to get lost?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Of course not. You’re welcome to come in. I just don’t want to ruin the rest of your evening.”

  He reached over and took the key from her hand. “Trust me, Amy. This is where I want to be.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply let him open the door and guide her inside.

  “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you some water so you can take a pill?”

  “You really don’t have to wait on me, you know. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

  He turned toward her and placed both hands lightly on her shoulders. “I know. You’re a very strong, independent woman. But you’ve had one tough day. And frankly, so have I. It’s not a pretty thing to watch someone you—you care about get hurt right in front of your eyes. In fact, it’s as close to hell as I ever want to get. So let me do this for you, okay? It will make me feel better.”

  Cal had a way of making it sound like he was the beneficiary of his own good deeds, Amy realized, remembering his comment about his work at Saint Vincent’s. And positioned that way, she could hardly object.

  “You win,” she capitulated.

  When he returned a few moments later, she was playing back the messages on her answering machine. “I need to call the news editor back. The rest can wait,” she told him.

  He handed her the water and a pill. “Would you like some dinner?”

  She made a face. “No way. I’m still kind of queasy. What time is it, anyway?” She glanced at her watch and her eyes widened. “Ten o’clock! I must have been at the hospital for hours. What about you? Did you have dinner?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh, Cal! You must be starving!”

  “Only in the last few minutes.”

  “I’ve got some microwave stuff in the freezer. You’re welcome to anything in there, but I think my supply is pretty depleted,” she s
aid apologetically.

  He grinned. “A starving man isn’t very picky. Go ahead and make your call while I scrounge something up.”

  The news editor wasn’t available, but the station promised to have him get back to her shortly. She rose to go to the bathroom, pausing in the kitchen doorway to find Cal with a chocolate-chip cookie stuck in his mouth as he searched through her freezer.

  “That’s not very nutritious,” she teased.

  He turned to her and removed the cookie. “Maybe not. But it’s very available.”

  “True,” she conceded. “Listen, would you mind answering the phone while I change into something more casual? My station should be calling back any minute.”

  “Sure. Take your time.”

  Amy continued to the bathroom, where she washed her face and then used a hand mirror to gingerly examine the back of her head in the vanity mirror, cringing when she saw the large white bandage. Good thing they only showed her from the front on camera, she thought wryly. It was going to take a long time for all that hair to grow back.

  Just as she finished dressing she heard the phone ring, and she padded barefoot toward the living room, tucking her T-shirt into her sweatpants as she walked.

  “Yes, she’s okay,” she heard Cal say. “Shaken up, of course, and she has a nasty cut on the back of her head. But the doctor said she’ll be fine.”

  There was a moment of silence, then he spoke again.

  “No, don’t worry. I’m going to stay tonight until she’s settled. And I’ll stop by to check on her again first thing in the morning…Mmm-hmm…I already asked, but she said no. Any suggestions on what might whet her appetite in the morning if she’s still not hungry?”

  Amy’s brows rose in surprise and she paused in the doorway. Jarrod Blake, the night news editor, was good at his job, but it wasn’t like him to ask about anyone’s health—or eating habits—in any detail. And he certainly wouldn’t know anything about Amy’s favorite foods.

  Cal listened for a moment, then turned and caught sight of her. “She just walked in. I’ll put her on.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Your sister,” he said.

  Amy frowned and walked toward him. “Kate?”

  “She saw your clip on the national news a few minutes ago, and she sounded pretty frantic. I told her you were okay, but I don’t think she’ll believe it until she hears your voice.”

  Amy reached for the phone. “Kate?”

  “Oh, Amy! I was so afraid you were—” Her voice broke on a strangled sob.

  “Kate, really, it’s okay,” Amy reassured her. She gently lowered herself into the desk chair, her gaze on Cal’s broad back as retreated to the kitchen. “I just needed a few stitches.”

  “I wish I could be there with you!”

  “I love you for the thought, but really, I’m okay. Cal is here. And you’ve got that baby to think about. Please, don’t worry.”

  “Have you heard from Mom?”

  “No. Have you? Did she see it, too?” Amy asked in alarm.

  “I guess not, or she would have called. But she’ll hear about it in the morning from someone.”

  “I’ll call her first thing,” Amy promised.

  “Okay.” Kate was beginning to sound more like herself. “Listen, isn’t this Cal the one you bought the date with at that auction?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t know you’d been seeing him.”

  “I haven’t been.”

  “Then what’s he doing there?”

  Amy lowered her voice. “I don’t know. He just showed up at the hospital, and then he brought me home.”

  “I thought you said there wasn’t anything between you two?”

  “I didn’t think there was.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like you better revise your thinking, sister dear.”

  “What I think is that you’re reading too much into this,” Amy said firmly. “Besides, my head hurts too much to think about this tonight.”

  “You’re right,” Kate said, instantly contrite. “Go to bed and get some rest. Will you call me tomorrow and let me know how you are?”

  “Of course.”

  “Say good-night to Cal for me. And, Amy…he sounds really nice.”

  As Amy rang off, she couldn’t disagree with Kate’s assessment. Especially when Cal walked in a moment later bearing a plate of toast and a cup of tea.

  “I know you aren’t hungry, but you should try to eat something,” he said before she could protest. He set the plate and cup on the desk beside her.

  Once more, Amy felt her throat constrict. It had been a long time since anyone had looked after her, and Cal’s simple gesture made her realize just how alone she’d been for so many years. Amy blinked rapidly to clear the sudden film of moisture from her eyes and then looked up at him. “What about you? I hope you had more than that cookie.”

  He shrugged. “I nuked something while you changed. Go ahead, eat a few bites at least.”

  Amy nibbled on the toast and watched as Cal leaned against the back of the couch, hands thrust into his pockets, legs crossed at the ankles. He looked tired, she thought, her gaze softening in sympathy.

  “I’m really sorry about dragging you into this, Cal. After all the stress and strain of the trial, this is the last thing you needed.”

  “You didn’t drag me into this, Amy. I willingly got involved.”

  “Why?”

  The question was out before she could stop it, and she felt hot color rise to her cheeks. “Listen. Forget I asked that, okay?”

  There was silence for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was cautious. “Why don’t you want me to answer that question?”

  Because I’m afraid, she cried silently. Afraid of disrupting my carefully planned life. And even more afraid that your answer won’t be the one my heart wants to hear.

  “I don’t think I’m up to dealing with heavy questions tonight,” she replied instead, her voice quavering slightly.

  “I think you’re right.” He stood up and walked slowly toward her, and she stared at him silently, her heart hammering in her chest. For a moment his intense gaze locked with hers, and then he glanced at her plate, now empty except for a few crumbs. “I guess you were hungrier than you thought,” he said softly.

  The husky cadence in his voice made the last swallow of toast stick in her throat. Did the man have even a remote clue how appealing he was? she wondered, trying to ignore her staccato pulse. “I—I guess so,” she said inanely as she stared back up at him, mesmerized by the banked fire she saw in the depths of his eyes.

  He took a deep breath, then cleared his throat. “Come on. You need to get to bed.”

  Amy didn’t object when he took her arm as she stood. She suddenly felt off balance again.

  “Do you need to change?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m too tired. This will do.”

  When she reached the bed, she sat down wearily. The physical and emotional upheavals of the past few hours had completely sapped her energy.

  Cal waited for her to lie down, but when she continued to simply sit there, shoulders drooping, head bent, he lifted her legs onto the bed, then gently helped position her on her side. He reached for the blanket, pausing in surprise at the hand-stitched quilt that lay at the foot of her bed. The homespun touch seemed out of place in Amy’s sophisticated lifestyle.

  “Is something wrong?” Amy asked sleepily when he didn’t move.

  Cal quickly finished drawing up the quilt and tucked it around her shoulders. “I was just admiring your quilt. It reminds me of ones Gram has done. Did you mother make it?”

  “No. I did.”

  He stared down at her in surprise. “You quilt?”

  “I grew up on a farm, remember?” Her words were slightly slurred now.

  “But I thought you left all that behind.”

  “Me, too.” She sighed. When she spoke again, he had to lean close to hear her fading voice. “Life’s funny, isn’t it?”

>   Cal stared down at her. Yeah, life was funny, all right. And surprising. Not to mention confusing.

  He reached down and gently brushed a stray strand of hair off her face, his fingers lingering on her soft skin a moment longer than necessary. Then he drew a ragged breath. He had no idea where this thing between them was leading. But he did know one thing. It was time to find out.

  Chapter Nine

  The delicious smell of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls slowly coaxed Amy out of her deep slumber, and she sighed contentedly, savoring the aroma. What a nice dream. Cinnamon rolls were one of her all-time favorite treats, and it had been a long time since she’d indulged in them. They were way too fattening. But at least she could enjoy them in her dreams, where they came calorie free and…

  A sudden clatter brought her fully awake, and Amy sat bolt upright, a move she immediately regretted. A wave of dizziness and pain swept over her, and she dropped her head into her hands as yesterday’s nightmare events came vividly back to her. And now it seemed she was plunged into yet another nightmare. Someone was in her kitchen! A shiver of alarm raced along her spine, and she groped in the drawer of her nightstand for the pepper spray she’d kept there ever since Cal’s mugging. When the world at last stopped spinning, she rose slowly and silently crept to the kitchen, her heart hammering in her chest, pepper spray poised.

  If she was inclined to jaw dropping, the sight that greeted her when she peeked around the doorway would have done the trick. Cal was at the stove, concentrating on making what looked like an omelet. His jacket hung over one of the kitchen chairs, and he’d rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to the elbows. Her gaze lingered on his broad shoulders for a moment before she transferred it to the table, where a plate of cinnamon rolls dripping with icing sent her salivary glands into overdrive.

  As Cal reached for a plate, he caught sight of her and, in one swift, discerning glance, assessed her condition. Though her clothes were in disarray, her makeup nonexistent and her hair unkempt, her color was more normal and her eyes looked clearer, he noted with relief. Then his gaze fell on the pepper spray, and he gave her a quizzical grin.